


he says he is a scientist

by laira348



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Cecil is Mostly Human, Falling In Love, Fluff, Nonbinary Cecil Palmer, Other, POV Carlos, POV Third Person, Richard can go fuck himself, Trans Carlos, actually everyone is trans, except Richard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 00:45:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17273930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laira348/pseuds/laira348
Summary: If Carlos was to define himself, he wouldn’t use words like spy or secret agent or government operative. While that was his current employment position, it wasn’t who he was.He was a scientist, first and foremost.———Everything’s the same, except Carlos is supposed to spy on Night Vale. He’s not very good at it.





	he says he is a scientist

**Author's Note:**

> Remember that time Steve accused Carlos of being a spy and Cecil was like ‘he’s not, but that would be so cool’? I couldn’t find a fic about it anywhere, so I wrote it.

If Carlos was to define himself, he wouldn’t use words like spy or secret agent or government operative. While that was his current employment position, it wasn’t who he _was_.

He was a scientist, first and foremost. The fact that it wasn’t the university but some probably quite shady government agency who was funding his research was secondary. He was interested in science, not the town’s politics or whatever it was that his employers were after.

He’s heard of Night Vale before. It was somewhat of a legend in the scientific community, although it was hard to tell which rumors were real. The agency didn’t tell him much, so gossip was pretty much everything he had. His assignment was to study the local peculiarities with a team of other scientist - who, unlike him, were only scientists - and find out as much as he could about the town and its people.

The only actual piece of information he got was about the radio host. They refused to tell Carlos anything concrete, only that the radio was an important part of the community. One of the agents let it slip that the host seemed to know everything, which Carlos hoped was a figure of speech rather than any sort of hint at a possible omniscience.

Carlos and the team got to the town with no trouble, although he couldn’t quite remember how - he filed that away for later. They dragged all the equipment to their new lab, which was right next to a pizza place. Quite convenient, especially if what Lucia heard was true and all residents were required to eat there at least once a week.

He turned the radio on, because he didn’t want to miss the Voice of Night Vale - his bosses didn’t tell him what time the show started, which couldn’t have possibly been top secret information, but all he could hear so far was deafening static and the occasional sound of distant footsteps. None of the other scientists questioned it.

Carlos didn’t notice when the static faded, but he noticed when a voice replaced it. He instantly knew it was the show the agents were talking about, even though it was unlikely this would be the only show on Night Vale Community Radio. But the voice was low and melodic, and if Carlos wasn’t as a scientist committed to describing the world in accurate terms, he might have even described it as hypnotic.

"A friendly desert community," the voice said. "Where the sun is hot, the moon is beautiful and mysterious lights pass overhead as we all pretend to sleep. Welcome to Night Vale."

There was a short pause filled with a melody and then the voice spoke again, talking of a dog park that no one was supposed to enter and angels. Carlos made a note to avoid the dog park and to contact this Josie - did people really call her old to her face? - and ask her about her ‘friends’.

But then, the voice started talking about something else. "A new man came into town today," the radio purred. Carlos stilled. They couldn’t possibly be talking about him or one of the other scientists, could they?

"Who is he? What does he want from us? Why his perfect and beautiful haircut? Why his perfect and beautiful coat? He says he is a scientist."

Out of the team of scientist, Carlos was the only one wearing a lab coat when they arrived, as the others opted for more casual clothing in the desert heat. _And he didn’t speak to anyone._ He did talk to the scientists, but he didn’t mention his profession as they all knew who he was already. He thought of himself as a scientist, and it’s what he would have said if someone asked him, but no one asked. No one spoke to him.

"Well. We have all been scientists at one point or another in our lives. But why now? Why here? And just what does he plan to do with all those breakers and humming electrical instruments in that lab he’s renting – the one next to Big Rico’s Pizza?" the voice then paused for a second before continuing. "No one does a slice like Big Rico. No one."

Carlos didn’t understand anything, although the unprompted endorsement of a private business on a community radio pointed in favor of Lucia’s information. But he didn’t understand why his arrival - just his, not the team’s – was considered newsworthy. Someone could’ve possibly seen him in his lab coat and concluded that he was a scientist. But why did the voice comment on his hair?

As Carlos contemplated that, the voice started talking about children safety and helicopter colors and Carlos added another hypothesis: maybe the radio host simply made things up. That would make them a less likely source of information, but it would put him at ease.

He wrote the warning down anyway, just to be on the safe side.

Carlos had to leave for the town assembly then, but he did catch something about an airplane flying through a gym before he turned the radio off. Which didn’t sound exactly plausible, even if the host’s voice was as sincere as Carlos could imagine a voice could be.

The city hall was indescribable. Literally. Carlos couldn’t come up with a single word that wasn’t "city" or "hall" that didn’t make his brain feel like it was leaking out of his nose. He did his best to not make a fool of himself and his colleagues, despite the fact that he wasn’t terribly good with large numbers of people and he didn’t expect the turnout to be so high.

He also didn’t expect the agents from the organization that employed him - he carefully didn’t think about its name, as a lot of the Night Vale rumors concerned mind reading, and more disturbingly, mind control - to be standing in the back of the room, plain for all to see. Watching him and his team like they were colonies in a petri dish.

There was also the local police, who for some reason all wore balaclavas and were called the Sheriff’s Secret Police. What was secret about them, Carlos didn’t know. They were nowhere near as disturbing as the entity/entities which apparently constituted the City Council. Carlos would love to study whatever is it that they were, if he wasn’t also so terrified of them. He knew he must not let fear get in the way of pursuit of science, but his fear was more of what they could do as city officials than anything else. And that was a fear he should listen to.

After the speech he tried to find Josie. It wasn’t terribly hard, seeing as she was accompanied by some very tall beings. She was talking to someone of average height, but they were gone by the time Carlos reached her. She agreed to talk to him later and offered him a corn muffin, which he politely declined.

The other scientist wanted to look around the town to see if they find anything strange before heading to the seismologic station, so they got into the car. The radio was on.

"The new scientist – we now know he’s named Carlos – called a town meeting," the voice spoke. "He has a square jaw, and teeth like a military cemetery. His hair is perfect, and we all hate, and despair, and love that perfect hair in equal measure."

All the scientists turned to stare at Carlos’s blushing face. Even Rochelle, who really should be paying attention to the traffic. Why was the voice so interested in his hair? It wasn’t bad hair, he supposed, but it wasn’t anything special. Not to mention it wasn’t very professional to talk about someone in such way, wasn’t it?

The radio host spoke about the meeting and Josie’s corn muffins for a moment before they turned back to Carlos. "Carlos told us that we are by far the most scientifically interesting community in the U.S., and he had come to study just what is going on around here. He grinned, and everything about him was perfect, and I fell in love instantly."

Carlos was very glad he let Rochelle drive. She was an experienced driver and managed to keep the car in control even through the shock and a spontaneously appearing hole in the road. If it was Carlos behind the wheel, they would have probably fallen into said hole.

This just meant his theory about the show being a joke was right. Nothing else. No one fell in love that quickly and no one said things like that on the radio. Whoever the voice was, they were lying.

"Government agents from a Vague Yet Menacing Agency were in the back, watching." That much was true, and the part of Carlos’s brain that wasn’t busy panicking admired the clever naming of the agency without actually naming it. But one fact did not make up for all the falsehoods.

"I fear for Carlos."

They puled up next to a street full of nearly identical houses. Carlos wasn’t afraid.

"I fear for Night Vale."

Something felt off about the place, in a different way than this entire town felt off. He couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

"I fear for anyone caught between what they know and what they don’t yet know that they don’t know."

It felt off the way it feels off when you forget to do something in the morning, but you can’t remember what it was and it keeps haunting you through the day. Carlos got out of the car; the radio was turned off along with the engine just as the voice began a report on a new waterfront in Night Vale.

A waterfront in the middle of the desert? Yeah, the radio host was full of bullshit.

"Are those all identical houses?" the biologist whose name Carlos was pretty sure was Mark said.

"We could check," Lucia said.

And so check they did. Carlos used all the important scientific tools, like a machine that beeped every once in a while and stroking his chin in thought. And yet, it appeared that one of the houses wasn’t real.

"It seems like it exists," Carlos muttered to himself as he waved the beeping machine around. "Like it’s just right there when you look at it. And it’s between two identical houses, so it would make more sense for it to be there than not. But it’s just not there."

"Someone should knock on the door," Rochelle said. All the scientists agreed, but no one wanted to do it. They stood there on the sidewalk for a while, frowning in the general direction of the non-existing house, before they decided to go to the seismic monitoring station as planned.

Carlos was relieved when no one turned the radio on.

He wouldn’t say what they found at the station was the most surprising thing of the day, because that was a tough competition. That didn’t mean it wasn’t surprising to see that Night Vale should be currently collapsing on itself.

"We should warn them," Lucia said.

"Nothing is happening.” Dave shook his head.

"But it might! It’s not a malfunction; just because they don’t feel it doesn’t mean it’s not happening."

"Then they don’t need to worry! It’s not like they would listen to us, anyway."

"The radio," Rochelle interrupted them. "Carlos could talk to the host. I’m sure they’d be happy to pass on a message."

Carlos glared at her. He knew she was right, but that didn’t stop him from being upset with her. "We should focus on our work," he said. "I can stop by the radio station later."

After all, he was curious. And the Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency - it really was quite a handy term - would also want to know, sure.

They drove back to the lab. Someone turned the radio on, but all he heard the voice say was _And now, the weather_ before a song started playing.

"Didn’t they say weather?"

*

This town officially made no sense. The sunset was late. It was also incredibly noisy, but that seemed less important in the face of time not working right. They checked several different clocks, but to no avail.

All of them except Rochelle sat at one of the tables, murmuring at a desk clock. Which also didn’t help.

"I called the radio station," Rochelle said. "I told them about the sunset and the earthquakes. But they said they already reported about the earthquakes. I also cannot remember how I got the number."

Carlos looked up from the clock. Rochelle looked a little shaken up. He sighed. "I’ll go check it out."

The radio station wasn’t hard to find; it was probably the tallest building in town. The door didn’t have a handle. There was something that looked a bit like a thumbprint reader instead. Carlos experimentally put his thumb there. A tiny blade extended and pricked his skin.

He jerked his hand away. The door opened. Maybe it was some kind of biolock? Or it just wanted blood.

That actually sounded more plausible, given what he knew of the town so far. And more disturbing.

Carlos somehow got past the receptionist - who took one look at him, said _they were right about your hair_ and pointed in the direction of the recording booth - and a door that had some truly terrifying sounds coming from it. The studio looked more or less like any other radio studio as far as Carlos knew. Completely average.

The person in the studio also looked completely average. Not tall nor short, not thin nor fat. Carlos could best guess their age as adult. Their face lit up when they noticed him.

"Carlos!" they called. He recognized their voice, although it was a lot higher than when he heard it on the radio. "Oh, it’s so nice of you to stop by! I’m Cecil Palmer." They didn’t attempt to shake his hand, which he was grateful for.

Carlos pointed at the strange device he took with him. "I’m here to test for...materials." Probably. He found the device at the lab and had no idea who brought it, or if it just materialized spontaneously to give him an excuse to meet the radio host. It should test for materials. Not that Carlos knew which.

"Oh, how scientific!" they said. "Would you like to stay for an interview?"

The device was beeping. It was beeping a lot more than it should. "No." Carlos replied and walked from his spot, hoping it would stop beeping. It beeped even more.

"That sure is a noisy box you have there."

He walked into the booth. The beeping was so loud the material levels must be lethal. "You should evacuate."

"But I haven’t finished the show yet," Cecil said. Carlos looked at them. If they spend nearly everyday with this amount of materials, they were probably probably beyond saving.

"Just evacuate!" he yelled and ran, ignoring the noises and the receptionist. He pricked his finger again to get out and locked himself in the car.

The radio was on. Cecil was talking about some miniature city and then about him. They were calm. Not at all worried about their wellbeing.

"Settling in to be another clear night and pretty evening here in Night Vale. I hope all of you out there have someone to sleep through it with. Or, at least, good memories of when you did. Goodnight, listeners. Goodnight."

Carlos rested his forehead on the steering wheel. Nothing made sense. A part of him was terrified, but a bigger part of him was excited. Think of all the science to be done!

And the spying, of course. Can’t forget about _that_.

*

When he wasn’t currently doing science, Carlos tried to fact check Cecil’s show. Not that he had a lot of free time, what with the glow cloud - all hail -, that time books just stopped working, the creeping fear and all. He also might have had a breakdown or two about time not working. And for the most part, it looked like Cecil was telling the truth. Even about the waterfront. It was dry and useless, but it was there.

Carlos decided to start listening to the show, for purely informative purposes. It was quite enjoyable, unless Cecil spoke about him. That was the one thing Carlos couldn’t figure out; but whether they were lying or not, they talked about him a lot.

He mentioned it when he was talking to his superiors about a week into his stay. "The voice said what?!" one of the less experienced agents blurted out.

"That they fell in love with me," Carlos repeated, feeling uneasy. "I think they were joking."

"This is good," the agent who was clearly in charge said. "They will be willing to give Carlos information they otherwise wouldn’t. We can use this."

Carlos had a sinking feeling that he said something he really, really shouldn’t have. So he felt like he couldn’t be faulted for avoiding Cecil.

He asked Josie - who truly insisted on being called Old Woman Josie - about it when he was talking to her and her friends, who were all named Erika and who may or may not be angels. (Carlos couldn’t find definite proof of either.) He was trying to be subtle, but that didn’t work very well.

"Cecil’s one of the good ones," Josie said, staring him down. "Very important to the town. I hope you realize what will happen if you hurt them."

Carlos didn’t, at least not until the Telly incident. A small part of him was glad that Telly was gone and that was what frightened him most about the situation. Not because of the haircut, though it was terrible. Telly knew, somehow, who he was. Not a scientist - Carlos doubted there was a single being in Night Vale that didn’t know that by now - but a spy. And Carlos was glad that his cover had less chance of being blown. But that was not why Cecil said what they said and Carlos was pretty sure that was not why the mob ran Telly out of town. He didn’t know if those two things were connected. He hoped they weren’t. He feared they were.

Which was another reason he continued to avoid Cecil, despite the agency’s insistence that he should try to get information out of them. He got enough information from the broadcast and science, enough to placate his bosses. For now, at least. He was aware he would have to talk to them, really talk to them, at some point, but there was no need to do that right away.

Sometimes Carlos or someone from his team called Cecil to tell them about some important science. Sometimes no one told them and they reported on it anyway, often directly quoting Carlos and the other scientists. The only difference was that when Carlos was the one who called them their excitement went up by exactly 184.7 percent. Carlos measured it.

Sometime Carlos or someone from his team visited the station. It was Carlos's turn more often than it should be, scientifically speaking. He suspected Rochelle had something to do with that. He always declined to stay for an interview and ignored any personal questions. Even so, Cecil remained excited to see him. They also remained infuriatingly all-knowing.

Carlos wasn’t actively trying to figure out the mystery behind Cecil’s knowledge, but he wondered. He thought maybe they got their intel from the secret police, who really thought having secret in their name would make them secret and who apparently surveilled everything. But it didn’t look like Cecil’s relationship with the secret police was that good. They seemed to abide by the laws most of the time, even the ridiculous ones, but sometimes they forgot their objectivity and common sense at home and questioned Night Vale’s authorities quite openly. Their actions were then rewarded with reeducations and stays in the abandoned mineshaft and HR retraining sessions, depending on which authority they angered.

There were periods of time when there was nothing on the radio but deafening static, or weather than went on for days. The panic of the town went significantly up without Cecil guiding them through the day and into the night.

When Cecil came back after that they always acted like there was nothing wrong. Cheery as ever. But there were slight differences in the tone of their voice. Not that Carlos was noticing that. Not that he was looking into that. It wasn’t anything worth reporting back to the Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency, so why would he be looking into that? There is so much science to be done.

Still, when Carlos stumbled - completely accidentally - upon the Night Vale Community Radio online archive, he downloaded all recordings of Cecil's show they would let him. It was even more censored then live shows. It only went back a few months, he would apparently need a permit for anything before that. But the archive itself went all the way back to 1854 which must have been a typo. Radio wasn't even invented yet back then.

Cecil did have a source in the Sheriff’s Secret Police after all, Carlos learned while listening to one of the recordings, but it didn’t seem to be a secret as they mentioned it on the show. He also doubted it was their main source. They had interns who, while alive, must have been helpful with collecting information as well. He was going to think more about that, the agency would really love to know – not to mention his own curiosity -, but he was trying to focus on science. Night Vale made no sense and there was always a more-or-less scientific crisis to solve. Which very conveniently meant that he just didn't have enough time to spy.

What a bummer! He also didn't have time to talk to Cecil, so he couldn't get information out of them. Too bad.

Yes, so very very bad.

But that also meant he had very little time to think of excuses. And his employers were getting restless. Which was not good for his continued pursuit of science and putting out fires under Night Vale's metaphorical butt.

But Night Vale was just so fascinating! He couldn't be faulted on not wanting to take time off of science to do the actual thing he was being paid for.

The Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency asked him if the voice still shows affection for him when he was talking to them once. “Uuuuh,” he said, drawing the vowel out for minutes. “I guess?”

 “Did they mention you on the radio?”

“Uh-uh.”

“And what did they say?”

“Something about me being perfect and handsome and smart. But I’m sure they’re just being friendly and welcoming.”

“Night Vale,” one of the agents gritted through their teeth. “Is not friendly and welcoming! They yell _Interloper!_ every time a stranger shows up! They like you.”

“I got called an interloper too, I think it’s just a local tradition. Cecil’s just being nice, I’m sure.”

There was silence on the other end, until the rookie spoke. “His name is Cecil?”

Carlos didn’t realize he hadn’t told them that, that he wasn’t going to tell them that. Too late to take it back now, he supposed. He also realized he’s never talked to Cecil about pronouns. Everyone called Cecil they, and he’s heard Cecil use it when talking about themself on the radio, so he hadn’t really thought about it until now. But he knew they were a they before he heard anyone say it, maybe even before he met them. He just knew. “ _Their_ name. Yeah.”

“That’s not grammatically correct,” the rookie said.

“Don’t be a patronizing asshole, Richard,” someone replied before Carlos could say anything.

“Yeah, don’t be a dick, Dick,” someone else chimed in.

Carlos was glad the other agents said something. He was also glad when this distracted them from harder questions.

*

Sometimes, Carlos forgot Cecil existed. Not in an amnesia way, or that they would just slip his mind completely. It was just that he would forget they were a real person and not just a disembodied, possibly omniscient voice on the radio with some _opinions_. And then Carlos would run into them at Ralphs or Big Rico's and nearly not recognize them for a moment. And then they would blush and stammer and Carlos would blush and stammer - for completely different reasons, he was sure. These interactions never lasted long, scientifically speaking, yet somehow felt simultaneously too long and too short. Carlos mostly contributed that to time being majorly weird. It might also be a bit because Cecil was weird. And on a completely unrelated note, Carlos had those weird feelings which he just happened to get when they were around. A scientifically interesting coincidence for sure.

Carlos would continue having these feelings for a bit after that, like an echo of awkwardness. And then he would get distracted with science and forget Cecil's an actual living human and that there are possibilities - no. There aren't any possibilities.

So he would forget, or at least pretend he did, up until he ran into Cecil again and the process would get repeated.

*

Spying in and on Night Vale turned out to be so much easier than Carlos would have imagined. Most households and public places were already under heavy surveillance. All one needed to do was tap into the feed. Carlos wouldn’t have the slightest idea how to do that, but there was a pamphlet called _How to tap into a surveillance feed_ being disturbed at City Hall. And he thought _when life gives you lemons, violate your neighbors’ privacy_ and took one.

It was surprisingly easy, both technically and morally speaking. _They were already being spied on_ , Carlos argued with himself. It didn’t stop him from feeling guilty, but guilt didn’t stop him from doing it. He didn’t give the agency anything big and he’s yet to spy on Cecil – it felt worse, somehow, than spying on everyone else – but he was doing it.

He also talked to Old Woman Josie on a regular basis, and she and the Erikas supplied him with the newest gossip. He still didn’t know what exactly did the Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency want to know about Night Vale, but they seemed content hearing about everyone’s petty fights.

*

Cecil talked about the hall of public records as if it was an impenetrable fortress. Anything you seek is hidden, not only by the usual bureaucracy but also by the hall’s maze-like structure. Carlos waltzed in, showed the officer his Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency badge, was given a set of instructions, a map and wished a nice day.

He might have looked up Cecil’s file while he was there, although that was not the reason for his visit. Cecil’s file, like all files, was heavily redacted. But some of the blackouts looked clumsy, as if they weren’t printed out like the other files, but that they were hidden afterwards. Information like year of birth, gender and certain family ties.

But he found out that them being the Voice of Night Vale was prophesied and that their middle name was Gershwin (which was cuter than it had any business being). He put the file back without diving deeper. He didn’t want to pry, not more than he already had.

He kept all the information he found to himself anyway.

*

Carlos was trying to decide which of Night Vale’s local food items could be composed into a fulfilling meal he could cook on his way to Ralph’s when he ran into Cecil. Not literary, as he managed to stop just before he collided into them. They were wearing neon orange zebra pattern tights, a khaki and magenta floral dress and a baseball cap with the Night Vale Scorpion’s logo. The outfit clashed so badly Carlos idly wondered if their lens prescription was accurate. But they looked really pretty.

“Hi, Carlos!” they said and smiled at him.

“Um, hi, Cecil.”

“I am so glad to see you! How’s science?”

“Good! Good. Well, a little frustrating, but mostly good.”

“That’s great!” Cecil said before Carlos could ask them how the radio was. “Did you find anything new about the earthquakes we can’t feel?”

Carlos thought about the countless hours – literally countless, because time was very weird in Night Vale – he spent trying to figure out how was it possible and the absolute nothing he’s found. “Uh, well, th-the science, I mean, um,” he stammered and then just sighed and shook his head. He just wanted to leave this encounter with some shred of dignity. Was that too much to ask?

“Oh. I’m sure you’ll figure something out!” Cecil smiled at him. It was very nice of them not to say anything about Carlos’s lack of wits currently with him. They were probably just being polite, though, nothing more. “I love your shirt! Where did you get it?”

Carlos’s mind blanked.  Come on. He’s a scientist! He has a doctorate in science! He can take one goddamn compliment. “I will look into my notes and computer models,” he found himself saying instead, “and see if I can figure out what’s going on.” He excused himself after that and left without looking Cecil in the eye. He didn’t want to see what they thought of him. (Their face was like a book, in that it fascinating, dangerous, beautiful and, if you’re familiar with the language, not impossible to decipher.)

He would probably hear it soon enough anyway.

*

The bread was attacking. Carlos went from shock right into action, and hit the sandwich with his danger-meter, which then fell from the alarming red into a calmer blood orange.

“That was my lunch,” Dave said.

“And the bread almost bit you. You’re welcome.”

“Are we sure it was the bread?” Rochelle asked. “It could have been one of the other ingredients.”

“More importantly, are we sure Carlos killed it?” said Nilanjana.

The bread turned into a snake. It hissed at Dave.

“Okie-dokie,” Mark sing-songed nervously. “That answers those questions.”

The snake was venomous, but it wasn’t the first venomous creature they’ve had to contain at the lab.

For once, Carlos was glad he was gluten intolerant.

*

The numbers didn’t look good. And that was bad, because numbers are amazing! Not that Carlos doesn’t have preference for some of them, but these would be really good numbers out of context! But the context was there and it wasn’t good together. No, not at all. No matter how many times the scientists stroke their chins and said hmm, the numbers and the context stayed the same.

Lucia grabbed a clipboard frantically. “We have to warn the people.”

As she said it, Cecil announced the Council for Commerce’s endorsement of wheat and wheat by products on the radio. Lucia looked like she wanted to hurl the clipboard at the radio, but she didn’t. Possibly because of Carlos’s expression, or possibly because Nilanjana snatched it from her before she could.

“I agree. We should go to the station and warn the public. Carlos, are you coming with us?”

“Oh, no,” Carlos laughed. “I went the last time. And before that. And before that. I’m sure you can handle Cecil on your own. I’m going to stay here and work on the decontamination. Take Dave.”

“Yeah, it was his sandwich,” Stan agreed, grabbing their own clipboard and putting on an outwear lab coat. “Let him take credit.”

The four scientist left, leaving Carlos, Rochelle and Mark to deal with the snake and decontamination. Mark stayed in the lab, watching the snake, while Carlos and Rochelle made a bonfire out back of the lab and burned the mildly stale bread rolls someone left at the lab kitchenette, Mark’s cookies and Dave’s dissected sandwich sans bread. Whatever it was that made wheat and wheat by products so dangerous, it made lovely colors when burned.

It reminded Carlos of when he was making colored flames with a friend in college. It was a part of zir art project. Carlos was very honored when ze asked him to help with the science part. His hair caught on fire very briefly.

He told the story to Rochelle and they laughed until the fire consumed all of the wheat and its by products and returned to its boring regular fiery color. “Don’t tell Cecil that story,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye. “They would not be pleased that your perfect hair was on fire.”

That wasn’t even the only time Carlos’s hair was on fire, but he didn’t get to say it, because Cecil just stopped breathing.

They had the radio with them, because Cecil’s show was on and the scientists always listened to it. Carlos listened because it was informative, the others because they got to tease Carlos when Cecil mentioned him. Cecil was talking about the City Council right before this. Something about bloodstones? They must have said something the council really didn’t like.

“Oh, dear,” Cecil wheezed over the static. “I apologize, listeners. We at Night Vale Community Radio are experiencing the following technical problems: the need for air, eye movements and gooey stuff inside. Please stand by.”

And so Carlos stood by. He wondered if Lucia and the others were already at the station. Would this fate befall them as well, even if they were only visitors? Could they help stop this? Maybe Carlos should’ve gone with them. Scientifically speaking, they were probably still in the car, but who could trust time?

“Thank you,” Cecil said after an indeterminate amount of time. Carlos would say it felt like forever. Science would probably disagree. Science would be wrong, because time in Night Vale didn’t play by science’s rules, so it very well might have been forever. “These problems have been corrected.”

Carlos wondered what corrected meant. He wondered whether he wanted to know.

“We should check on the bread snakes,” Rochelle suggested. The fire was nothing but smoldering embers now. Carlos grabbed the radio, holding it to his chest, and followed her.

Cecil sounded alright now. They were alright, even if the alright was fragile and temporary. They relayed the scientists’ message about the snakes, so Lucia and Nilanjana and Dave and Stan must have gotten there alright. Possibly the same fragile and temporary alright as Cecil.

“If you have any wheat or wheat by-products in your home, you are almost certainly already dead,” Cecil informed the town as Mark desperately tried to find the snake which was in the terrarium a second ago. “Sorry about that.”

“It was just there, I swear,” ey whispered frantically.

“What’s that shadow in there?” Rochelle pointed at the terrarium. When Carlos looked closer and he could see a shadow there, moving idly.

And then it lunged at the glass, causing three scientist and one possibly sentient microscope to jump in fright. Luckily, the glass was sturdy. It probably won’t break.

Probably.

Carlos snapped a picture and sent it to Lucia with several question marks. Lucia took to investigating the paranormal here in Night Vale, since her original field of logic was absolutely useless here. She’ll probably know what to do.

Probably.

She sent back _oh no that’s bad_ and an emoji of a ghost fainting. But she must have figured something out, because Cecil started reporting it. The spirit was still where it was supposed to be, faintly bumping against the glass and looking awfully defeated, like it was just realizing that it was trapped. Carlos imagined it would pout if it could. He resisted the urge to gloat.

“So what do we do now?” Mark asked.

Carlos shrugged. “Keep an eye on this thing and keep Lucia and the others updated. We could try studying it as much as we can from behind the glass. And probably stay inside, since there are no more wheat-products in this building. I mean, we are right next to a pizza place.”

“And that’s why you’re the boss!” Mark laughed, giving him a nervous thumbs-up. The three of them took chairs and sat in a half-circle around the spirit. They said hmm a lot and wrote some things down, occasionally sharing notes with the rest of the scientists.

The radio was still on and still in Carlos’s left hand, though he wasn’t paying attention, up until the moment he heard his name.

“…Carlos about our inability to experience tectonic shifts. Carlos, lovely Carlos,” Cecil purred, “had previously recorded other massive tremor activity underneath our city. His response was a few seconds of stammering followed by a sigh and slow head shake. His eyes were distant – distracted, yet beautiful.”

“Ooooh,” Rochelle, Mark and the microscope cooed.

“CAN WE FOCUS ON THE CRISIS FOR ONCE,” Carlos pleaded, his face turning an interesting shade, while his heart did interesting things in his chest. He remembered the encounter as if it was yesterday, though it actually happened earlier that day. If Cecil waited a bit longer until talking about it maybe Carlos would’ve succeeded in suppressing the memory completely. But he remembered it clearly, so he knew it was only going to get worse now.

“I asked him where he got his shirt. It fit him so well.”

Rochelle’s and Mark’s eyebrows shot up. The microscope snickered. Carlos braced himself. “He said he would look at his notes and computer models and see if he could figure out what was going on.”

Carlos dropped his head in his hands while every creature in the lab physically capable of laughter laughed at him. “You said what?!”

“I panicked, okay! What was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know if he listens to me sometimes,” Cecil sighed on the radio.

Oh.

Carlos wasn’t sure what to think. He did listen to Cecil, and that was the problem. They said lovely things, but that didn’t mean they meant them.

“You could just ask them out, you know.” Mark nudged him with eir shoulder.

“What? No. They’re not really…they’re not really in love with me.”

Rochelle scoffed. “Uh, yeah they are. It’s cute. And a bit creepy sometimes, but mostly cute.”

“They don’t know me. Even if they lo-like me now, which is inconclusive, that doesn’t mean they would still like me if they got to know me.”

And even if that happened, Carlos still couldn’t get too close to them. It wouldn’t be ethical. A scientist is always ethical.

And self-sufficient. And lonely.

Still, when the problem got resolved - like most things in Night Vale, during the weather – and Lucia and Nilanjana and Dave and Stan came back, he asked about Cecil. Mainly about their wellbeing, because he was still frightened and worried, but it was not the only information he was after.

“Hmm?” Lucia looked up from the now empty terrarium. Dave was, meanwhile, pretty distraught that he won’t get to have a bread snake/malevolent spirit as a pet. “No, they were fine when we got there. A bit short of breath maybe? But they talk for a living, so.”

“They did ask about you,” Nilanjana said.

“Oh?”

“I think they were disappointed that you didn’t come with us.”

Carlos nodded as if he understood. He actually understood very little about Cecil and their possible affection for him.

But he was collecting data. And today, while inconclusive so far, certainly pointed in favor of their feelings being genuine and, at the very least, not deterred by Carlos’s trouble communicating.

*

There was someone knocking on the lab’s front door. Gently at first, a soft knock the scientists didn’t even register, as occupied with science as they were. And then they knocked down the door.

“What the fuck?” said Stan from under the door.

“You are to report to the wheat and wheat byproducts quarantine immediately,” the representative of Sheriff’s Secret Police said.

“But we are scientists,” they all said in unison, except Stan, who only moaned in pain. The police officer stepped away from the door. Carlos wasn’t sure if it was because of Stan, or if they were trying to be intimidating.

“But you came to contact with the wheat. It doesn’t matter if you are scientists or not. This is America! Everyone is equal and equally undeserving of rights.”

The scientists all had a different reaction. Lucia started swearing. Nilanjana went very quiet. Mark took out eir spell book. Rochelle threw a scientific journal at the police officer. Dave started crying. Stan pushed the door off of themself.

Carlos stepped very close to the police officer and looked them in the eyes. He wasn’t a behaviorist or a psychologist, he was a scientist, but he knew how to appear stronger than he felt. He googled it before he went to the City Council with a request for the first time. “Yes, but we are _scientists_. Scientists are always fine.”

He tried staring them down, but it didn’t seem to work. The help site only covered body language and not expression, and it probably wasn’t helping that he was smiling warmly. He sighed, reached into his lab coat pocket and took out his Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency badge, showing it to them. “Also, I don’t think the voice of Night Vale would be very happy if you took us away,” he added just in case.

“Of course, Mr. Scientist.” The officer stepped back. Their forehead was sweating. Carlos wasn’t sure if it was the badge or mentioning Cecil that worked, but he didn’t really care. “You are free. I’ll just collect your co-workers.”

“No!” Carlos said. He didn’t like confrontation. Night Vale seemed to thrive on it. “You either take all of us or none of us.”

“Um.” The sweat dripped onto their cheeks. Maybe they were just hot in the uniform? It was, after all, the desert. “I am sorry. I will go.” They backed away a few steps and then bolted.

The Sheriff’s Secret Police left them alone after that, and as far as Carlos was concerned, that was it for wheat and its unfortunate byproduct problems. The town had to get adjusted to new eating habits, of course, but Carlos already didn’t eat wheat and so could only offer comfort and recipe tips. Mark compensated for the lack of cookies in eir life by aggressively perfecting their way of baking macarons. Carlos appreciated that very much.

“The key is,” ey told him as the scientists stuffed their mouths with the perfection ey brought them. “Whisking the eggs by hand. It does wonders for my mental health.”

*

There were many things Carlos considered dangerous that pose no threat in Night Vale. And even more things that Carlos considered normal that were a cause of terror here. Librarians, for example, and now also street cleanings. Instead of simply being an inconvenience, it made people scream and run. There was always someone running around screaming, so Carlos had to rely on science and Cecil to tell him when it was time to hide. But science wasn’t always easy to interpret and Cecil could be pretty forgetful. (And just pretty, but that was besides the point.)

This time, Cecil’s warning came right at the beginning of their show and they were crystal clear. The experts advised being dead already; Cecil advised hiding. Since time travel was scientifically improbable, not to mention illegal, and Carlos had no desire to munch on cyanide, he took Cecil’s advice and bolted the lab doors. He and the other scientist huddled in the upstairs bathroom, which was the only room without a window that could fit seven people and a sentient microscope.

They did manage to put a camera outside before they hid, though. They were still scientists and they wanted to know all about Night Vale. Not to mention Carlos needed to learn more about the town’s culture, so he would have something for his bosses. He didn’t have much time for spying lately.

So they huddled, watched the live feed and listened to Cecil’s soothing voice. Or maybe it was just Carlos who found it so soothing. He didn’t bother to ask. They all enjoyed the children’s fun fact science corner, though, which was, for once, scientifically accurate, as well as heavily censured and eventually even interrupted by the Sheriff’s Secret Police. The scientists and even the microscope - who named itself Janseen - were very impressed. Carlos didn’t want to give them more reasons to tease him, and so he didn’t mention that he helped Cecil with that particular segment.

They waited for the carnage. And there was nothing. Just street cleaners. Cleaning the street. Like they do everywhere. Without attacking anyone.

“What,” all of the scientist said flatly. The microscope beeped at the exact same tone.

Despite learning that there was no danger in the first place, they joined the spontaneous gathering at the park and marveled at their continued existence. It just seemed right. Carlos thought he could see Cecil somewhere in the corner, but he must have been wrong, since Cecil was currently speaking on the radio.

They couldn’t be two places at the same time. That was preposterous.

*

Cecil was talking about him on the radio again. He didn’t really expect anything else, after their phone call. They said, before they started gushing about him, that they don’t like to talk about their personal life on the show, which was just not true, scientifically speaking. They never missed an opportunity to compliment Carlos or complain about Steve Carlsberg. They seemed a little upset that Carlos hasn’t used their personal number before. He just wanted Cecil to know about the time slowing down and didn’t want to wait until they would be at the station. He didn’t realize Cecil would’ve wanted him to just call to chat.

Maybe he could call them sometime, for personal reasons this time. Or text them. Texts were safer.

He also didn’t realize that Cecil was so nervous when they were talking. Carlos was normally nervous when talking to them, too, but he was a little preoccupied with the time slowing down.

“I feel like time is always slows down when we’re together, Carlos and I. Is that what he’s trying to say? I feel that way too!”

Blood rushed into Carlos’s cheeks. Cecil’s grasp of science was not much a grasp, as it was a flat palm holding nothing, but it was probably the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said about Carlos. He was very glad he was working on the clocks in his apartment and not at the lab, when he’d have to face his coworkers’ teasing.

He listened, his hands not moving to disassemble clock number 7 at all, until Cecil moved to the actual news. He then turned back to the clock, which not only had the gelatinous lump inside, but also teeth. And hair. It was gross.

He took his phone out to call Cecil, who of course didn’t pick up since they were in the middle of a show. He left them a voice mail instead, talking about the clocks-

And then he was standing in a different part of the apartment, holding his phone in one hand and a shoe in the other. He put the shoe down and recorded another voicemail for Cecil. He even asked them to meet him in person to talk about this, and also because despite his efforts, he didn’t manage to talk to the mayor or the secret police. He missed a part of the show trying to remember what he was doing but he couldn’t.

Cecil called him during the weather and they agreed to meet for a coffee. Also, the clock tower was apparently invisible and always teleporting, which was information Carlos could’ve used before he spent many hours trying to find it. Cecil excused themself when the weather was about to end and Carlos sat down, staring at the broken clocks and waiting for them to speak.

And speak they did. It was good that Carlos could know what they think this way, he told himself desperately, so he could deal with any potential misunderstandings.

It wasn't that he didn't like Cecil. They were cute and their voice made Carlos blush and feel butterflies in his belly and they cared so much for their community and for him and he had no idea why. If it wasn't for the job Carlos would've already asked them out by now. Well, okay, he wouldn't have, but at least he wouldn't willfully ignore them whenever they tried to not so subtly ask about his dinner plans.

But it would never work. Carlos's terrible dating record aside, he couldn't get emotionally compromised. The Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency wanted him to spy on Night Vale, to use Cecil. He couldn't do that. He could tell them what he heard, he could give them enough so that they let him stay here and work, but he couldn't date them just to get information. And he couldn't just date them without getting information. He couldn't build a relationship on a lie. It wouldn't be fair to Cecil.

 Now he just had to break it to them.

*

The coffee was quite good. The silence that stretched after they greeted each other was not. He was trying to figure out what to say, but nothing seemed right. In the end he just decided to rip the band-aid off.

"Look, Cecil. I didn't mean for this to be a date."

Cecil's face fell and something in Carlos's stomach knotted. "Oh," they said very carefully, putting their coffee cup down, as if it would stop Carlos from noticing the tremor in their hands. "Okay. Sorry I assumed. How embarrassing." They chuckled, which was somehow the least believable sound Carlos has ever heard them utter. “Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.”

Truth be told, Carlos wasn’t sure how Cecil would react. They could be a bit temperamental, or at least it sounded like that over the radio. But they were calm and rational, even though they were obviously disappointed. “No, it’s okay.” He smiled reassuringly. “You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page.”

He wanted to rip the page out. He wanted to get back to the one Cecil thought they were on, the one they both wanted to be on. But he couldn’t take back the words he’s already spoken, and he was still a spy.

They lapsed into silence again, one that felt both worse and better than the last one. “So,” Cecil said eventually. “Time.”

That, finally, prompted Carlos into explaining the situation at length. Science he could talk about. And Cecil listened. They gave him the contacts he needed, both for the time situation and information extraction, and they ended up chatting after that. The science talk gave them time to overcome the awkwardness and the disappointment they both felt, though one of them was better at hiding it than the other.

Talking was nice. He hasn’t actually ever spent this much time talking to Cecil and he was just now realizing how nice it was. If this was a date, he would have walked them home in an effort to stretch their time together the way time in Night Vale seemed to be stretching and kissed them on the porch. But this wasn’t a date and so they each went their own way.

*

Carlos was a little upset at himself for being surprised not to be runout of town after the non-date. It’s not that he thought Cecil would hurt him. Over the last few months Carlos got to know them and like them and couldn’t deny that their crush – Carlos could acknowledge it, but that didn’t mean he was ready to call it anything more – on him was real. But Cecil was important to the town and Carlos hurt Cecil. He didn’t mean to. He wished he could kiss it better. But that didn’t change the fact that he made Cecil sad.

But no one enacted vengeance on their behalf. Even Old Woman Josie, who warned him to be careful with Cecil back when he arrived, took one look at him and did nothing worse than sigh and shake her head. “Get your shit together, boy,” she said to him. “A sulking scientist is almost as bad as a sulking radio host. Now hand me the cereal from the top shelf. Erika wandered off somewhere.”

Carlos wasn’t sulking. He was maybe just a little sad, but he was also very busy, so he barely noticed. He was almost glad that Valentine’s day was not a happy holiday in Night Vale, though. He did not feel like being surrounded by happy couples. For no reason in particular. Instead he used the event to record another local holiday and its customs for his bosses.

Carlos thought that maybe if he didn’t bump into Cecil for a while he would forget about their existence again, but it seemed that that ship has sailed. Cecil popped up in his thoughts every now and then. Even the broadcast no longer felt like a mysterious disembodied voice was talking to him. No, now it was just Cecil, albeit speaking in their radio voice. His friend. Sort of. Hopefully.

They haven’t mentioned him on the radio for a while and Carlos wasn’t sure whether he was glad. He didn’t like the uncertainty of it, especially since they haven’t seen each other since the date that wasn’t a date. He texted them sometimes, but it was always over science.

He supposed they took his words to heart and decided to move on, which Carlos definitely wasn’t sad about. He said they must have moved on to the agent, who very politely laughed in his face. He wasn’t sure how to interpret that, since they didn’t give him any orders to go along with it.

*

Unknown numbers were never a good sign. For Carlos, the consequence of not picking up would not outweigh the anxiety of an unexpected phone call with a mystery person. Unless it was the Sheriff’s Secret Police. In which case he would regret it very, very soon.

He picked it up, in case it was an emergency.

“Hello?” he asked cautiously.

“Hey, Carlos!” said a voice, excited and overtly familiar. Not familiar in a creepy _how do you know me?_ sorta way. More like they are a friendly person and listen to Cecil’s show. Everyone listened to Cecil’s show, so that didn’t narrow it down, but most people weren’t friendly to strangers, even though Carlos has lived here for months. “It’s Steve Carlsberg.”

Now that was a surprise. He’s never met Steve, though he must have seen him around town and never realize. He wasn’t like Carlos imagined him. He didn’t imagine him, really, but he wouldn’t expect him to be so friendly to the crush of his sworn enemy, at least according to Cecil. Carlos had no idea what Steve thought of them. What would you even call a one-way enemy relationship? Unrequited hate?

“Oh, hi, Steve. I didn’t realize you had my number.”

It wasn’t said it in accusatory way, just curious. A scientist is always curious.

“One of your scientists gave it to me. Tall lady, very pleasant? I was looking for you in the lab, but she said you were out.”

Rochelle. Of course.

“I was conducting a very interesting scientific experiment down by the sand wastes.”

“Would you like to conduct another one? It’s pretty scientific.”

“What is it?”

“You know Cecil, right?”

Carlos made an affirming noise. As if he could’ve not known Cecil. Steve said their name casually, familiar and simple, with none of the disgust or loathing like when Cecil spoke about him. Like he was talking about an old friend.

“Well, then I’m sure you know, they have some pretty strong opinions. Some of them based on no facts whatsoever.”

Carlos thought about the moon incident.

“And this one is held by most of Night Vale. I’m not sure who’s idea was it first. But I suppose it doesn’t matter,” he chuckled. “Cecil doesn’t believe in mountains.”

Carlos thought about the moon incident.

“What.” he said, flatly, with no intonation whatsoever. There were many things he was prepared for. Street cleaning. Librarian attack. Invasive questions from the agency. Invasive questions from Cecil. He was not prepared for this.

“I just thought, you know, they won’t listen to me, but they might listen to you! We could take them to see an actual mountain. There’s gotta be some in the area. They’d have to believe it then.”

At that moment, Steve struck him as ridiculously naïve for someone who lives in Night Vale. As if seeing something meant Cecil would start believing it. They might believe Carlos, though. It was certainly more likely, scientifically speaking. Or it used to be, at least. He didn’t know if Cecil still cared.

“I think that’s a great idea. There’s actually a mountain pretty close to Night Vale. I think.” Which state was Night Vale in again? Other than constant despair. “Can I ask you a question, though?”

“Sure.”

“Cecil, they…I’ve heard them talk about you. I thought you didn’t like each other.”

“No, Cecil just…Cecil just says funny things sometimes. You know how families are.”

Carlos did not have any capability to be surprised left in him. They’re related? That would explain the intense level of pettiness for no reason Cecil feels for this guy. After all, Carlos has said plenty of things Cecil would consider conspiracy theories and he’s never been threatened with reeducation.

“Like for example, I don’t trust you. You’re an outsider. How do I know you’re not a government operative?”

Carlos choked on air.

“But I know Cecil trusts you. So I guess that’s enough.”

Carlos wheezed. “Right. Of course. Look, I’ll get back to you about the details for the mountain trip, but there are some scientific things I have to take care of right now, sorry, bye.”

“Oh. Bye, Carlos!”

Well. That was an interesting conversation.

*

Carlos stopped the car and got out of it. He pointed to the mountain. "Mountain," he said.

"It could be a mirage," Cecil grumbled.

"Mountain," Carlos repeated, slightly louder and more agitated this time.

"Whatever you say, Carlos." Their voice was laced with that tone that told Carlos they weren't really listening to him. It was the tone that was usually accompanied by superlatives and lovesick sighs. Carlos put his head in his hands. Mostly because he just showed Cecil an actual fucking mountain and they still didn't believe him, partially to hide his blush. They still liked him. He could listen to Cecil saying his name like that all day, but that was not why they were here. This was a completely professional trip, to prove to all of Night Vale that mountains aren't a conspiracy theory.

And it was definitely not a date. This time, Cecil didn't even assume it was and Carlos was definitely not disappointed. Nu-uh.

Right.

"It really is a mountain, Cecil," Steve Carlsberg said. Right. Maybe that was the main reason this was not a date.

"You stay quiet, _Steve Carlsberg_."

Carlos took them closer to the mountain. He touched the side of it. “Mountain,” he gritted trough his teeth.

Cecil hesitated and then put their hand on the mountain, too. Their hand was very close to Carlos’s. “Wow! It’s actually there.”

Mission completed.

"See?" Steve said.

"I mean, it still might have been built by mountain apologists."

Or not.

"What?"

"How do we know it's natural? Sure, it's real. I can feel it when I touch it. But that doesn't mean it just appeared out of nowhere!"

Carlos though about telling Cecil how mountains come to exist. _You see, Cecil, when two tectonic plates love each other very much…_ Then he thought better of it.

"No," Carlos said and turned around. "Nope. Not even going to bother." He started walking towards the car.

"I'm just being thorough! Are you going to leave me here?"

“Maybe,” he said, not meaning it at all. Cecil followed him, and so did Steve, presumably.

"You really take this mountain thing seriously, huh?" Cecil said as they walked back.

"You could say that." Carlos smiled at them. He didn’t care as much as he thought he would. Night Vale – and Cecil – kept reconstructing his worldview and he barely even cared.

Cecil was silent until they all got to the car. "I like you even if you're a mountain believer," they said eventually.

Carlos started the engine.

_And I like you even if you're a mountain denier_ , he though fervently, but didn’t say a word.

"I like you too, Cecil!"

"Not you, _Steve_!"

*

Carlos locked himself in a closet. There was barely enough space for one full grown scientist, there was no way a double could somehow materialize in it. A small part of Carlos thought it was hysterical that he was back in the closet. The rest of him was just hysterical. His danger-meter was trying to get to a more dangerous color than red, but to no avail. Carlos had to recalibrate it as he got use to new Night Vale dangers a lot.

He had the radio with him, because if there was one thing that he learned about Night Vale during his months living there, it was that if there was a crisis, you should turn Cecil's show on and hide. And if there was one thing he learned about himself during that time, it was that he really liked listening to Cecil talk.

He tried not to think about that. He also tried not to think about how he was hiding in a closet. The sandstorm was unexpected and scientifically interesting, but as with everything, there was a but. This time it came in the form of doubles and fighting to the death.

Seeing as Carlos had desire for either he ended up in his closet while the Faceless Old Woman that not-so-secretly lived in his house laughed at him. He was too scared to care.

Cecil’s show wasn’t as calming as usual. Cecil’s voice quivered when they called out for Dana. They seemed very shaken up, despite the fact that the radio’s interns die like flies. Carlos knew that Dana survived longer than most.

And then a portal opened up in Cecil’s studio. Carlos searched his pockets for his phone desperately, but he must have left it somewhere outside his safe closet. It was too late now anyway. Cecil had already gone in.

Carlos hugged his arms around himself. Cecil will be fine. They’re always fine. A voice came from the radio, and Carlos could almost weep with relief except it wasn’t Cecil’s.

Someone else was in the station. They sounded so very different from Cecil that while there were some similarities, Carlos could probably rule out the double thing. But they said they looked the same, so Carlos wasn’t sure. They also mentioned Desert Bluffs. Maybe that’s where the portal took Cecil.  If that was the case, Carlos shouldn’t worry. Desert Bluff is right next to Night Vale and while Carlos has not visited it he was pretty sure it was not terrible. Cecil always complained about the town, but they never specified why.

He still worried. It took several agonizing minutes of the impostor, Kevin, babbling and the weather playing before Cecil was back. Back in the station, back in Night Vale, back where Carlos could reach them. Back where they belonged.

“Hello? Night Vale? I told you I would be back.”

Carlos slumped against the closet’s wall.

“It took longer than I thought, but I have returned from whatever horrible place I have gone.”

They recounted their encounter with Kevin, who they met in the portal. Who attacked them. Who they didn’t kill in the end, despite wanting to. Despite being clearly terrified of them and the place they came from.

“But somehow, I am happy they are alive.”

Carlos stopped shaking. He didn’t even notice he was shaking until he stopped.

“That I am alive. That you are alive. That we are alive.”

He couldn’t help but agree with Cecil. The relief was so intense it made Carlos feel sick.

“Outside the winds are subsiding, the sun sweeping away our pains.”

He opened the closet door tentatively.

“I am sure there is blood staining the streets -- the graffiti of our sins, the writings of an immoral but necessary battle, I presume. The bodies of some replaced by others who were -- we were -- all the same to begin with. And we are healing.”

There was nothing in his bedroom. He was safe, for now.

“Those of us, whoever we are, who survived. Those others of us, whoever we are, who conquered. Whoever you are now, you are home.”

He was home. They were home.

“We are home, Night Vale!”

Cecil sounded excited now, but Carlos had noticed the fear in their voice earlier.

“You and I are together again!”

He sat down at his desk and opened his laptop. If Night Vale Community Radio had an online archive, so should Desert Bluffs.

“My mouth, your ears, we have each other!”

He clicked on the first result. The website looked just like NVCR’s, only with a different color scheme.

“And for now, and always, goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.”

Just as the outro started playing a new recording was uploaded to the archive. Today’s broadcast. Carlos didn’t even hesitate before clicking play.

He regretted his choice as soon as he finally got to the part where Cecil disappeared - or, in this case, it would probably be more appropriate to say appeared. That little hint of fear when they got back home was nothing compared to this.

He took his phone out. He should be calling his superiors. He was texting Cecil instead.

_You were in Dessert Bluffs_ , the first text read.

_You are home now._

_Hydrogen peroxide washes away blood stains._

Then he opened an e-mail draft to the Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency.

_To whomever it may concern_ , Carlos typed. Really, it was just a way of trying not to draw attention to the fact that he didn’t actually know anybody’s names, except that jerk Richard. _There was a sandstorm in Night Vale, that reached at least the neighboring city, Desert Bluffs. Whoever touched the sand had a double appear and then the two proceeded to fight to death. There was also a possibly related incident with a portal to Desert Bluffs at the radio station. The portal went both ways. It is currently unclear if Kevin, the voice of Desert Bluffs, has any relation to Cecil and if they possess the same ‘knowledge’ as Cecil. While they were said to be similar in appearance and speech, I am reasonably sure them being doubles (at least of the sense of today’s sandstorm) can be ruled out._

_Additionally, Dessert Bluffs appears to be a nightmare land. As in a land filled with actual nightmares and human remains. While this statement might sound extreme, remember that Night Vale’s ruled by an unexplainable entity/entities who may or may not eat citizens, and know that it is actually much worse._

Carlos hit sent and slumped over his desk. His phone chirped and he looked down at it. It was a text from Cecil.

_Thank you, Carlos. It is so nice of you to text! Of course it was that wretched town. I should’ve known. I know how to get blood stains off of fabric, but I think the shoes are a lost cause._

After a moment, during which Carlos didn’t take his eyes off of the screen, another text came.

_I can still feel the blood in them._

Carlos bit his lip. He quickly typed _Do you want me to come over?_ and send it before he could change his mind.

_No, sweet, attentive Carlos. I will be alright. I am spending the night at my sister’s._

Carlos was definitely not disappointed.

_Say hi to Steve from me._

**_No._ **

Despite it being a text, it felt like it was delivered at full volume.

_I’ll do anything you ask of me, but don’t ask me that._

Carlos tried very carefully not to think about what exactly _anything_ meant.

(The agency wrote him that he shouldn’t worry about Desert Bluffs. That, naturally, made Carlos worry even more.)

*

Night Vale apparently didn’t care about thermodynamic laws. And according to the Sheriff’s Secret Police’s official statement scientists were comedians and should stick to comedy. Carlos would’ve spent a lot more time absorbing the former and complaining about the latter, but he was behind on his poem quota for poetry week. He didn’t know what to write about. Like most people, he’s scribbled some things when he was in school, but that was a long time ago. And one can only write about scientific matters for so long.

There were other things he wanted to write about. Personal things. But he didn’t know if he could share them. It wasn’t something he’s ever learned how to do. He was a scientist. Scientist don’t communicate directly. And spies don’t communicate at all.

But, he thought on Tuesday as he listened to Cecil reading poems by the citizens, poems weren’t always very direct either. They were full of metaphors and symbols and certain parts were more about the form than about an easily deciphered meaning.

He wrote about thermodynamic laws, in the end. Some things just needed time.

(Even though time’s not real.)

(He also wrote an e-mail to his handler in verse, just to be an asshole.)

*

A whispering forest appeared in the desert and they nearly lost Mark, the biologist, to it.

“How did you save em?” the other scientists asked Carlos when they got to the lab, lab coats dirty, but not shredded.

“With the power of noise cancelling headphones,” he replied. _And if I wanted to be complimented so badly_ , he thought to himself, _I’d go talk to Cecil. What can a fucking tree offer me?_

*

Carlos has had enough. He’s had enough of pretending he didn't care about Cecil and that he couldn't see Cecil cared about him. Because he did. He cared about Cecil. And Cecil's been so open from the first day and maybe at first he didn’t believe it and it was a bit weird but that hasn’t been the case for a long time now and all he could hear in his ears when he closed his eyes were the high-pitched war cries of the tiny city and a soft, broken _I can't_. And Teddy Williams telling him not to go to sleep.

Right. Stay awake. You can't die. Think of Cecil.

God, think of Cecil. Let yourself think of Cecil. How happy they will be when they see you alive. How sad they were when they thought you were dying.

God, did someone tell Cecil he didn't die?

He tried to get up, only to get pushed back by Teddy. "What the hell do you think you are doing, big shot? Are you trying to bleed out?"

"Cecil," Carlos said. The pre-recorded public announcement was still on. It has been on for quite a while.

"Don't exert yourself."

"Someone has to tell them I'm not dead."

"Oh.” Teddy blinked and paused fixing Carlos up for a millisecond. “Yeah. I'd wait until I'm sure you’re not gonna die on the spot, but yeah, they damn well deserve to know."

So Carlos lied there patiently, tried not to fall asleep and thought of Cecil.

When the public announcement ended, Cecil's voice, though strained from the recent grief, was joyous. They were so happy and Carlos was happy and oh no that's a lot of blood and not all of it is Carlos's and-

Oh.

"Oh, no," whispered Carlos.

"Oh, no," said Cecil on the radio.

Teddy shook his head. Carlos didn't know what to think. He disliked the Apache Tracker, but he saved his life. At the expense of his own.

He didn't know what to think about the city and what the threat would mean to Night Vale now and what to do about the fact that someone just died protecting him, but he knew what he thought about Cecil.

He got out of the bowling alley as soon as he could and Teddy would let him – _if you die on me now,_ Teddy muttered under his breath, _Cecil’s gonna kill me_ \- and texted Cecil before he could chicken out.

He picked the Arby's because the lights were fascinating and he could remember Cecil talking about them in hushed awe and also because that's where his car was parked. It was pretty much right next to the bowling alley and Carlos didn't think he could get much farther than that without assistance.

Cecil got there faster than should be physically possible, but Carlos didn't care. He just looked at them, finally let himself look at them.

"What is it? Wha-what danger are we in, what mystery needs to be explored?" they rambled, still visibly shaken, but professional. _Well, fuck professional_ , thought Carlos.

He shook his head. "Nothing. After everything that happened...I just wanted to see you."

"Oh?" Cecil said. Oh, indeed.

Carlos was speaking, he knew he was. He wasn’t sure if he was making sense, but Cecil seemed to understand. And so they sat there on the hood of his car, side by side. Nearly touching, but not quite. Carlos wanted to cross that gap, to offer the comfort they both so desperately, so obviously needed, but all he managed was to put his hand on Cecil’s knee. Cecil froze and Carlos worried he somehow misread the whole situation, but then they put their head on his shoulder.

Oh.

That weird feeling was there again and this time Carlos didn’t want to deny it was because of Cecil. Because it was. He liked them and if Night Vale wanted to kill him, well, then he at least wanted to die honestly. Mostly. He can’t tell them that he works for the Vague Yet Menacing Government Agency. Also he would just prefer not to die at all.

Point was, he was really glad he decided to call Cecil. In absence of actual words to describe what he was feeling, he at least told them that. They smiled and said the weather would end soon and that they really should get going. Carlos was too tired to protest that the song must have ended at least twenty minutes ago. He tried not to feel disappointed.

Cecil looked at him then and chewed their lip. “Are you gonna be alright on your own?”

Carlos considered that. He hurt all over and he was pretty sure he should not get behind the wheel. But he felt lighter than he had for a long time. “I should be. Although…you walked here, didn’t you?”

“Of course. My car is not permitted to leave the station’s parking lot until after my show is over.”

Right. Of course. “Maybe you could take my car to the station and drive me home after you sign off? I don’t think I can drive.”

“Of course! I’d be happy to do that. I mean, I’m not happy about your indisposition, just. Um. Happy to help.”

Oh, Cecil. Lovely, eloquent, nervous Cecil. They drove to the station and Carlos stayed in the car, listening to Cecil gush about their meeting. They were quoting him directly again. It didn’t bother him anymore, although he was still curious how they always remembered everyone’s specific words. But right now, he was just happy to listen to them.

Cecil wished Night Vale a good night and then appeared at the entrance door. Carlos has been to the station several times and it wasn’t physically possible for Cecil to get there from the booth that fast. He didn’t care.

“Hi,” they said when they sat down in the driver’s seat, not even a little out of breath. They handed Carlos the trophy he heard them talk about earlier today. It said _Night Vale’s best scientist_ on the base. “I got you something, you know, to celebrate your first year in Night Vale.”

Carlos took the trophy and smiled, tracing the letters with his fingers. He liked how Cecil phrased it. First year. Like it implied there were more to come. “Thank you, Cecil. I’m sorry about the party. I was going to come, I just lost track of time. It happens often, what with time not being real.”

“You were?” Cecil asked excitedly and nearly drove them into a ditch. “I mean,” they said once they regained control of the vehicle. “don’t worry about it. I’m just glad you’re alright.”

They stopped in front of the lab. “Are you really sure you’re going to be okay on your own?”

Carlos was going to say yes, but then he saw the look on Cecil’s face. They were so composed this evening he almost forgot their break down on the radio earlier. But now all that fear was plain to see on their face. “Well, Teddy did say I should have someone watch over me.” What Teddy actually said was _Let Cecil take care of you_ and Carlos was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about the injuries. But it was close enough.

“I can do that! Unless you have someone else, of course.” They scratched the back of their neck. Carlos smiled at them and reached over to squeeze their hand.

“That would be great.”

Cecil’s smile was blinding. Figuratively, at least. He took them upstairs to his apartment. It wasn’t much, just a small place to sleep and eat. He spent most of his time in the lab, anyway. He had figured he would either not stay for that long or find a better place eventually. He was pretty sure it was going to be the latter.

“It’s lovely,” Cecil said, taking their shoes off at the door. “Very science-y.” They were looking at the periodic table of elements rug, which was probably Carlos’s only personalization of the apartment. Today he added a new one. He put the trophy Cecil got for him on his desk, angled so he would always see it when he’s working there. It made the place more homely right away. Or maybe, he mused as his guest hovered nervously, it was just Cecil’s presence.

“So. You have a couch. I guess I’m going to stay there. Or do you want something? I don’t know what the protocol is for injuries like yours.”

_You_ , Carlos thought. _I want you._ But he didn’t say it, because it wasn’t the right time and because he was still scared of screwing this up. “I don’t really know, either. But you can’t very well watch over me from the couch.”

“Oh. I suppose you’re right.” They looked very pretty when they blushed. Carlos lead them to his bedroom.

“I should have spare pajamas somewhere,” he said, wracking through his closet. They were not where he put them. “I think the Faceless Old Woman rearranged my closet again.” All his lab coats were sorted alphabetically, which was just impractical. Everyone knows lab coats are supposed to be sorted by how cool they’d look in an explosion scene in an action movie. Or how likely they are to withstand such explosion.

“Yeah, she does that sometimes.”

Cecil ended up wearing one of Carlos’s science pun t-shirts. It said _I make bad science jokes because all the good ones argon_. Cecil laughed when they read it. Carlos felt like he could float, but it might have just been the pain meds kicking in.

They both lied down. There was more space between them than should be scientifically possible. Carlos’s bed was not very big. “Cecil,” Carlos whispered, because it felt odd to talk out loud in a moment like this. And also because he was pretty sure he scratched his throat while screaming, back in the time city. “I’m not going to dissolve if you touch me.”

“Are you sure?” Cecil whispered back.

Carlos didn’t say anything, just moved closer. So did Cecil. And then they slowly, softly, wrapped their arms around him. Carlos didn’t know if their tentativeness came from nerves or if they were afraid of causing him pain, but it didn’t matter because the moment was perfect anyway.

So they lied there, two people, sharing space and comfort after a horrifying event. After a lot of time spent thinking and not enough time spent feeling. And nothing happened that night, because Carlos was not in the shape for it, physically speaking, or ready for it, emotionally speaking. They just slept when they could, when the left-over terror after today’s events let them, and just lied together when it didn’t.

Carlos would’ve loved to say the next morning was blissful, that he woke up in Cecil’s arms and all he could feel was content. But pain woke him up around sunrise and he found Cecil in the middle of a nightmare.

“Cecil,” he hissed, shaking their shoulder. He wasn’t sure what to do. “Ceec, wake up. It’s just a dream. You’re okay.”

Cecil’s eyes burst open, but Carlos knew they couldn’t see him at first. “Carlos,” they said when their vision focused, so much meaning in that one word, and threw their arms around him.

It hurt a little when they collided, but Carlos wasn’t complaining. “You’re okay, you’re okay,” he whispered, hugging them back. He wasn’t sure which of them needed the reassurance more. He stroked their back comfortingly. “We’re okay.”

“You were dead! I saw-“they cut off with a strangled moan and buried their face in Carlos’s hair. “So much blood,” they whispered.

Carlos remembered then that they said the same thing during the broadcast. Did they actually see him? Did someone send them a picture, or…Was it connected to the way they seemed to know things they shouldn’t?

He shook his head. That didn’t matter right now.

“I’m alive, Cecil. I’m here. And yes, I lost some blood. A bit more than I would prefer, certainly. But I’ll live.”

“I know! But I…it was…”

Carlos untangled himself from the embrace, ignoring the pained sound from Cecil and took his shirt off. “Cecil. Look at me.”

Cecil looked at his bare chest. Well, it wasn’t completely bare, a good portion of it was bandaged.

“See? I’ll be fine.”

Cecil studied him. His wounds, hidden as they were. His scars, out on display. The ones from top surgery, the ones from science, the ones from childhood he could barely remember.

And then, the rest of him. Carlos has never felt so vulnerable yet so comfortable and safe.

“You are beautiful. Does it hurt?”

“Being beautiful?” Carlos asked, smiling wryly. Cecil finally, finally, smiled too.

“Nooo, your chest.”

There was no point in sugarcoating it. Cecil would probably know anyway. And even if they didn’t, Carlos wanted to be as honest with them as he could. “Yes.”

“I’m being a very good guest, am I?” They sighed and began to get out of the bed. “I’m supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around. Do you need something? Painkillers, or-“

“Don’t go,” Carlos rasped. “Stay.”

Cecil stilled. “Okay,” they whispered and stayed.

*

“You’ll be late for work.”

“I know!” Cecil ran a hand through their hair. “I just...are you really sure you’ll be alright?”

Carlos wanted to kiss them so badly then, as they stood in the doorway. He hugged them, instead. “I’ll be fine. I’ll text you if I need anything. Now go, before Station Management eats another intern.”

“Okay. Bye, Carlos! I lo-uh, I’ll talk to you later.” They bolted out of the door.

_Nice save_ , thought Carlos. There was a goofy smile on his face that probably won’t be going away anytime soon. He turned the radio on and lied down on the couch, waiting for Cecil’s voice.

“Look down. What do you see? What. Do. You. See? Welcome to Night Vale,” Cecil said in that beautiful voice of theirs. “Listeners, I come to you with an update on yesterday’s terrible events. You all know what happened in the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex and so there is no need for me to repeat myself and relive the pain it brought me. Carlos, beautiful Carlos, who is no less perfect for the injuries he sustained in the pursuit of science, is currently taking a break from his work while he heals. I urge you to pray for his speedy recovery in your blood stone circles, dear listeners. It is not that I don’t have faith in Teddy Williams’ medical skills, it is just that I don’t have faith in anyone’s medical skills. The only remedy you can trust is whatever the uncaring universe gives you upon your prayers.

In a statement given by Carlos’s team of scientist earlier today to me, when I asked them about it, the scientists swore not to let Carlos anywhere near science until he is feeling better even though _science is an abstract concept that you can’t just keep someone away from_ and that _Carlos is a person with his own free will and quite stubborn, um, I mean a dedicated scientist._ They also added _stop doing that thing with your voice, it’s creepy_ and _chill, we care about him too._

Um. I am not terribly sure what they meant about my voice,” Cecil muttered and then cleared their throat. “I then asked them who will be in charge of the lab while Carlos is indisposed and they all, including one microscope, simultaneously said _me_ , and then began arguing. I didn’t stay for the conclusion, because it was almost time for my broadcast and I didn’t want to face management’s wrath.

So, if you need any scientific help, be sure to head down to the lab next to Big Rico’s and ask whichever one of them won that argument.”

*

The weather was playing and Carlos’s living room was full of scientists.

“Hey, boss? We thought we should check on you,” Rochelle said. The other scientists were crouching behind her. Stan even brought Janseen.

“You just want me to decide which one of you should be in charge.”

“What? No!” The scientists laughed nervously. None of them were very good at lying. Except Janseen. It’s a bit hard to detect the usual signs of lying on a microscope.

“ _I_ only came here to bring you some wheat-free cookies,” said Mark, handing him a tupperware.

“Thank you, but it won’t help you. Nilanjana will be in charge. She has most experience with science and leadership.”

“Yes!” Nilanjana cheered while the others grumbled.

“I thought you weren’t here because of that?” Carlos asked, smiling. The weather was lovely today.

“Of course we’re not!” Lucia lied.

“Please tell your _friend_ not to threaten us,” Dave said, trying to change the subject. “Also you’re banned from the lab until you can hold a beaker without your hands shaking.”

“I know, I heard Cecil’s show,” he paused. “Did they really threaten you?”

“Not really.” Rochelle shrugged. “They just seemed concerned about your wellbeing. Their voice did that weird thing.”

“What weird thing?”

“You know? How their voice gets sometimes when they’re on the radio and everyone wants to do what they say?”

Carlos knew what she meant, though he preferred not to think about it as a thing. Cecil was just very charismatic and persuasive, that was all. He hoped.

“They also asked us to check on you,” Janseen added.

Carlos paused. “They did?”

Everyone nodded. “We should probably go,” Nilanjana said, already enthusiastically taking charge of the team. Carlos wondered how long that attitude will last. “We left some samples alone in the lab, they might get lonely. And the weather is almost over, I’m sure you want to listen to your crush in peace.”

Carlos blushed, but didn’t deny it. Cecil was back on air, calming the city after whatever crisis that needed resolving – Carlos might have fallen asleep at some point – and Carlos really didn’t have the energy to deny how he felt.

He took out his phone when his friends left and texted Cecil.

_Tell your listeners I left Nilanjana in charge._

_And thank you for taking care of me._

“Oh!” Cecil squeaked almost immediately. “Carlos texted me. Um, let me see. He says to tell you that Nilanjana is in charge of the lab and uh. Other things.”

Carlos could hear the smile in their voice.

*

Carlos would’ve loved to spend more time with Cecil now that they’ve gotten closer. But Cecil was very busy with work, what with the new threat from the tiny city and all. And normally, Carlos would have been busy with work too, but he was still not in a very good shape. Definitely no sciencing shape. And there’s only so many things one can do from bed before growing bored.

As a way of passing the time and being close to Cecil at the same time, they started texting. A lot. He learned Cecil had an affinity for emojis, which must have been contagious. Carlos put a heart emoji next to their name in his contacts, on a purely sentimental whim. It always made him smile when he saw it.

*

“Carlos is looking into the problem with his scientist, which he shouldn’t since he’s on bed rest.”

Teddy didn’t say anything about bed rest when he checked up on Carlos. Teddy said _I guess you’re not gonna want to leave bed for a while, huh_ and winked. Carlos had trouble relaying that to Cecil without blushing so he just let them come to a conclusion. The conclusion was wrong, but certainly less embarrassing.

“I don’t mean to distract from the matter at hand, listeners, but I can’t help worrying about him. He almost died! I know it happens to all of us, but it’s different when it’s someone so close to you.”

Carlos set the beaker down, ignoring the comments of his coworkers, and texted Cecil.

“Oh! Carlos says he’ll be careful and keep me updated. Hmm. Well, he’d better.”

“Did you ask them out yet, boss?” Lucia asked.

Carlos blushed and stammered. He was waiting until he was healthy enough at first, but by then nerves caught up with him. “What if they say no?”

The laughter that met his genuine question was actually pretty reassuring.

*

“Hello?”

“Hi, Cecil, it’s me.”

“Oh! Carlos! Is there a new scientific development?”

“No, I’m…I’m calling for personal reasons.”

*

After the terror of a near death experience and the beginning rush of finally getting to go on a date with Cecil faded, Carlos was left with deep fear. It wasn't the town-wide creeping fear. It wasn't a feeling delivery either. Just the fear he had before these events, but momentarily forgot about. With an added bonus of guilt.

He was still a spy and Cecil was still a person with way too much information and Carlos might've gotten a bit too excited and let it slip that they went on a date when he was talking to his boss.

"Good, Doctor. Glad you are making progress. I hope you are not getting emotionally compromised?"

Carlos laughed nervously. "No, of course not. Just excited. About all the science and spying to be done! Not about anything else."

"Good. Do give me a call when you find out something from Palmer."

"Yes, sir," he gritted out and hanged up. He banged his head on the table. "Shit."

"You know," came a voice from the bushes in front of the lab that totally didn’t startle Carlos. "Cecil really loves you."

Carlos sighed. They haven't said it yet, at least not to Carlos's face, not without snapping their mouth shut anytime it nearly slipped – they weren’t very subtle - but Carlos was very much aware of their feelings. "I know."

"And you know that if you hurt them you will face the wrath of the entire town?"

Getting shovel talk from Old Woman Josie upon his arrival was bad enough, but the Sheriff's Secret Police? That's not good. "Yes."

"Then you should either get a lot better at keeping secrets or you should tell them before it gets too late."

Too late for what? Because it was already too late to stop someone from getting hurt. Carlos's heart ached just thinking about it. But he supposed it would hurt less now than if it came a couple years in. Which was a pretty big assumption. In all likelihood, Cecil will get tired of him or Carlos will fuck something up - something else, that is - in the next few weeks. And then he wouldn't have to tell them. He wasn't sure which thought hurt more. "I know. I want to tell them, I just don't know how."

There was a pause and for a minute he thought the SSP officer went back to hiding in the bush. "Maybe you should use your words," they said eventually.

Silence followed. Words. Right.

He was going to tell Cecil when he called them, he swears. But then he realized he can't do that over a phone and then they asked if they were still on for tomorrow and Carlos said yes and then babbled about science. Like an idiot.

And then on their date Cecil was so pretty and happy and Carlos just couldn't bear to do something that he knew would bring a frown to their beautiful face. And he told himself he would give this a shot, wait a couple weeks to see if he fucks up and if he doesn't, he'll tell them. He won't let it get too far.

*

Carlos was lying on the ground in front of a condo and realizing he might have let it get a bit too far.

"Carlos? Are you okay?"

He looked up at Cecil. Cecil, who just ran from the station and into this nightmare cube to save him. Cecil, who has always been upfront about their feelings for Carlos. Carlos wasn't good at being upfront about feelings.

_Use your words._

And so he did. And none of the words was lie or sorry or spying and he realized using his words was not really a helpful advice. Most of his vocabulary was scientific. So he tried to explain, in scientific terms, only he was still not talking about the problem. "I just thought it was time for us to make a home together," he finished his speech awkwardly. Cecil looked like they were about to burst. "But," he said before they could. "I don't think it would be fair to you if we don’t talk first. There are some things I haven't been honest about. I wasn't lying, scientifically speaking. By omission, I suppose. " He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

“I wasn’t only sent here to do science. I was also sent here as a spy.”

Cecil’s eyes widened. “You’re a secret operative?”

Carlos rubbed his neck. This was the end. “I guess you could say that.”

Cecil was silent for only a second. It felt like eternity to Carlos. “Neat!” they exclaimed.

Carlos must have hit his head at some point when they were escaping the condo. “Uh, what?”

“I mean that’s so cool!” they said, same level of excitement as before. They looked a bit embarrassed at using the word neat again, but that was all. Carlos never had the chance to mention it before, and it certainly wasn’t the right time to say it now, but he thought it was cute. Really cute. “I don’t understand why you’d be worried about that, unless-“ They stopped, right in the middle of the sentence and their face just dropped. Carlos has never seen them look so sad.

Yeah. There it is.

“Oh,” they said, more tremble than word. “I understand.” Their speech was mechanical. They sat up. “I will not bother you if your experiment is over.” The way they spat out the word experiment broke Carlos’s heart. And he wasn’t even sure they were both upset about the same thing.

“I don’t think I know what you mean? Maybe you misunderstood-“

“I understood perfectly clearly,” Cecil snapped. “You dated me to use me. You don’t actually care about me.”

“What? No, no, honey.” Carlos grabbed Cecil’s hands. “That’s not what-“ he paused and shook his head. “I love you. I am only with you for you.”

Cecil’s eyes widened again and then they smiled. “Oh.” They leaned in and kissed Carlos softly. “I love you too.”

Carlos sighed happily. It was alright.

“Why were you worried, then? Because you being a scientist and a secret operative is super cool. I don’t mind that you didn’t tell me right away. You wouldn’t be a very good spy if you did.”

“I don’t think I am a very good spy anyway. I-don’t you think it’s weird? My bosses want me to spy on you. I have. They wanted me to get close to you. That’s why I avoided you at first, actually. But then I almost died in the tiny city under lane 5 at the Desert Flower Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex and I just couldn’t deny that I liked you anymore. And I haven’t, I haven’t told them the things you’ve told me since we started seeing each other, Ceec, you gotta know that. Some things should belong just to us. My bosses have no right to know those things.”

 “So you spy on me. And? So does my assigned officer of the Sheriff’s Secret Police and I’m still friends with her. So does the shadow government. So does the City Council. So does the Station Management and countless others! Why should it bother me?”

In retrospect, Carlos really should have realized Cecil had no sense of privacy. They were under constant surveillance and they broadcasted their love life on the radio. “Yes, but that is different,” he insisted. “You know they are doing it. I _lied_ to you. Are you really not upset?”

“Well, I might be a little upset over _that_ , but I don’t think it’s particularly fair, considering the circumstances.”

“What do you mean?”

To his surprise, Cecil looked guilty. “I might have…not been completely honest with you, either?”

“Oh?” Carlos said with a carefully even tone.

“I should’ve told you earlier, but I was worried. I guess you can understand how that feels.” They smiled wryly and Carlos found himself returning to smile, despite the nervous anticipation. “I can, well, it’s sorta hard to explain. I can see things? Or hear? I can see them as they happen. More or less. Sometimes the time doesn’t align properly. But even when that happens it’s always the very recent past, occasionally the immediate future. It’s useful for reporting. Especially when I’m in between interns.”

Carlos listened intently. It was incredibly scientifically interesting. It was also what his employers wanted to know. He was however after a different kind of knowledge at that moment.

“Is that how you knew what was happening when I got attacked?”

They nodded, pained. “The sight, well, I call it sight, because that is the closest to it. It’s not really an extension of one sense as much as it is a separate one all on its own. I couldn’t see you fall over, I couldn’t see the blood. But I knew. I experienced it. No, that’s not the right word either. I couldn’t feel what you felt, I’m not an empath. I only observe. But I could tell what you feel, at least the strongest things. And Carlos,” they paused and looked Carlos in the eyes. Their own were full of unshed tears. “You felt so much pain and fear and regret.”

Carlos still didn’t know how to comfort them over his close brush with death. When they had a nightmare he just held them and hummed until they fell asleep again. But things are different in the light of day. “You know what I regretted the most?” he asked, hoping it was the right thing to say.

They shook their head. “Going into the tiny city, I hope.”

Carlos laughed. “Well, that too. But I regretted never getting to tell you how I feel, never giving this,” he squeezed Cecil’s hand as he spoke. “a try.”

A stray tear slipped down Cecil’s cheek. “Oh, Carlos.”

And then neither of them spoke for a moment, because their mouths were a bit preoccupied.

Cecil broke away after a moment, their hands on Carlos’s chest holding him at an arm’s length. “Actually, that’s not all,” they spoke quickly. “The observing – it goes both ways. Or it can. I use the sight for my work, but I use the other way very rarely. After all, if I want to inform the town about something, I can just say it on the radio. I only use it for emergencies, or with people I’m close with. And, uh, for pronouns.”

Carlos frowned. One mystery solved. “You can project your thoughts and you use it to make sure people know your pronouns?”

“It is a lot simpler than having to tell everyone. And they’re not thoughts, just…sensations.”

Carlos thought of the number of times he had to remind someone or correct them when they used the wrong pronouns and he understood. Cecil’s way was much more elegant. And less awkward.

“You are the most fascinating person I’ve ever met,” he told them, because it was true. “Scientifically and otherwise.”

Cecil made an excited noise and looked throughoutly embarrassed at themself. “Perfectly imperfect Carlos,” they signed. “But really, did you not find any of that out while you were spying on me?”

“I told you, I’m a terrible spy. Most of my information was from your show. And what I saw of your file was super censored, anyway.”

“Was it now?”

Carlos leaned in closer conspiratorially. “I don’t even know how old you are.”

“Well,” Cecil faltered. “You’re not the only one.” They rubbed their neck. “So we’re okay?”

“Definitely.” Carlos leaned over and kissed them. “So, now that we’re honest with each other. What do you think about that thing we were talking about?”

“Mhh. What _were_ we talking about?” they said, smiling wryly. “Yes. Yes! That would be neat! Ugh, why do I keep saying that.”

“I think it’s cute.”

“Um.” Cecil blushed and looked away, smiling again. “But somewhere else, okay? A duplex or an apartment…I don’t think a condo.”

“No, not a condo.”

Cecil’s smile suddenly slipped off of their face. “The show. Oh, boy.” They scrambled up, helping Carlos up as well.

“You left the weather on, right?”

“Yes, but the weather report is only a few minutes long.”

Carlos decided not to mention that the weather seemed to go on as long as Cecil needed sometimes. He took Cecil’s hand instead, and they set out to find where he parked his car. He might have forgotten, in the haze of science and emotion.

Luckily, the car did not get far.

Carlos drove Cecil to the radio station and then accompanied them to the booth, because he was worried about the Station Management’s reaction to radio silence and also a little bit because he didn’t want be away from Cecil. The booth was small, just the right size for one not tall nor short, not thin nor fat radio host. The two of them wouldn’t fit in there together otherwise, so Cecil ended up sitting in Carlos’s lap. Not that either of them had any complaints about that.

Cecil apologized to their listeners for leaving them alone and then began to account what happened while they were away. They talked about perfection and imperfection, about what they saw in the cube. About what they saw in him. It was different, listening to them talk to their audience while being with them. They weren’t talking to him directly, but it all seemed magnified in some way that didn’t reach across the radio waves.

Or maybe it was because they were holding his gaze and his hand the entire time.

They played their recording of Carlos’s speech, much to his embarrassment. But he was glad Cecil’s mouth was unoccupied for a moment.

“I just thought it was time for us to make a home together,” Carlos’s voice faded out and Cecil regrettably drew away.

“And I said yes!” they announced, gesturing wildly with their hands. Carlos wished he could see them like this – in their element, doing the work they love and so, so happy – more often. “Yes, that would be – well that would be neat!” They grinned at him. “But somewhere else, okay? A duplex, or an apartment. I don’t think a condo. And he said-“

“No, not a condo,” the recorded Carlos finished.

“And then he said...listen.” Their smile turned mischievous. “He thinks I shouldn’t tell you everything. That I should leave a little something there that belongs just to us.”

If they weren't on air, Carlos would kiss the hell out of Cecil. As it was, he settled for holding them tight. With his ears he could hear them finishing the story, but with his mind he could feel them laughing and he could feel their love.

“Listeners, I send you now back out into the night. And it’s dangerous out there, and it’s lonely, and it’s not perfect. Stay tuned next for a conclusion and an afterword. Goodnight, all of you here,” they smiled at Carlos. “Goodnight, all you listeners. And goodnight, Night Vale. Goodnight.”

They turned on the outro and turned off the microphone. “Home?” they asked.

“Home,” Carlos agreed. They ended up at Cecil’s place, but it didn’t matter, because they were home when they were together. And soon they will have an actual home together.

“Carlos?” Cecil said when they were lying in bed that night, just as Carlos was about to fall asleep.

“Yes, Ceec?”

“Have you ever spied on Steve Carlsberg?”

Carlos rolled over so he could see Cecil better. “No. I didn’t want to spy on your family.”

“ _Steve_ is not my family.”

Carlos sighed. “He’s married to your sister.”

“Tragic, I know.”

“Is there a point to this or did you just want to ask?”

“No, ugh.” Cecil raked their hand through their hair. “There is a point.”

Carlos waited patiently while they sorted their thoughts into something coherent. “It’s just. I have this bet with Janice. And I’m pretty sure he’s helping her.”

“She’s ten.”

“Right? Way too old to need her stepfather’s help for a tiny bet!”

Carlos laughed. “In that case you are definitely too old to need my help to find out.”

“You don’t even know how old I am,” Cecil grumbled. “If I lose I’m blaming it on you and Steve.”

Carlos kissed the side of their face and was about to tell them to go to sleep when he remembered something. “Since we’re being honest with each other today.”

“Yes, my Carlos?”

“I’m a scientist, not a biologist or a dendrologist.”

Cecil gave him a perplexed look. “I know you’re a scientist, bunny.”

“I don’t know anything about trees.”

“Oh? Oh! Then why were you doing tests on them on our first date?“

“I was nervous. I was always so nervous around you. Still am, sometimes.”

“Neat,” Cecil smiled at him.

Carlos wasn’t sure what answer he expected, but he had to agree with Cecil. Things were neat.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I’m going to make a podfic if anyone is interested (and probably even if no one is), so stay tuned for that.


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